


War Songs

by PearlDefiance



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: AU To My Own AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Babylonian & Sumerian Mythology (But Not Done Especially Well), Crystal Gem Solidarity, Dysfunctional Canon Relationship With Good Intentions on Both Sides, Earn Your Happy Ending? More Like Earn Any Ending, F/F, Gem Influence on World History, Gem War, Oblivious Rose Quartz, PTSD, Pearl Doing It For Her, Pearl's Jealous Streak, Pearlrose Angst With a Side of Power Imbalance, Pretty Dark But Not Hopeless, The Inherent Psychological Trauma of Being a Pearl, This Version of Pearl Isn't Badass Years Old Yet So Don't Expect Her to Handle Everything Well, Unexpected Wedding, War Trauma, Worst Case Scenario (Probably)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21945904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PearlDefiance/pseuds/PearlDefiance
Summary: In the wake of Pink Diamond's shattering, Homeworld fights to retake the Earth by any means necessary. Vicious new tactics have embroiled the Crystal Gems in a war of attrition they were never prepared for. In a land between two rivers, the stories of a battle between the gods have made Pearl and Rose—and their enemies—objects of veneration. A last stand looms in Babylon, but the stakes are even higher than they can imagine. Their relationship, their revolution, their dreams, all will be tested to the brink.
Relationships: Pearl/Rose Quartz (Steven Universe)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	War Songs

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings for this chapter:
> 
> General warfare, large-scale field battles, fighting and shattering  
> Minor character death (one on-screen but not in detail)  
> On-screen gem damage  
> Descriptions of total war tactics with implied mass violence against humans and Gems  
> Pearlrose angst with a side of power imbalance and all the suffering that implies for both

There is a land where all is pure—  
And it has a name:  
“The land of the dead.”  
  


_– Ariadne auf Naxos_  
  


***

_They called it the Marvel of Mankind_.

Pearl thought she knew what to expect from Babylon. So many places on Earth looked the same to her – the same, but not familiar. Jungles, lush and hot and full of creeping things. Deserts that could play tricks even on a Gem’s vision, stretched in supplication beneath a too-hot sun.

So much of it was sand, so much of it was soil, _so much of it was endless, endless filth_.

She did not know the city by name, even when Rose mentioned it the first time. Humans named and re-named their little groups constantly, forgetting all the names that came before in a blink. Empires rose and fell, sifting through the fingers of history like so much lifeless sand.

Even she had heard that legend:

 _This is how one pictures the angel of history. Her face is turned toward the past_.

Pearl was not prepared – could not even have imagined – that when she crested that last rise at Rose’s side, she would see this: Far beneath them, a city that sprawled out in glorious waves of ochre and marble. For one brief, shining moment, it all reminded her of home.

 _Where we perceive a chain of events, she sees one single catastrophe_ —

She stood there with only Rose’s shadow to protect her from the heat, realizing belatedly – when Rose looked down on her from a step higher on the ridge – that her breath had caught. When had she taken on the habit of breathing, in any case? It was hard to stop, now. Much too hard.

— _which keeps piling wreckage upon wreckage and hurls it at her feet_.

“I remember now,” said Pearl, and Rose placed a hand knowingly on her head—

Which only after a moment’s hesitance stroked her crown and the back of her hair.

“You told that king ...” Pearl closed her eyes, willing herself to recall the words perfectly, for no less would be enough. “Humans never get to lie in the shade of the trees they plant. But we do.”

“His great-grandson asked us to come,” said Rose Quartz. “It’s just how I dreamed it would be.”

Pearl heard the tears in Rose’s voice—

But when she dared look up, the glare of the sun was so bright she could not quite see beneath that big pink fringe. She looked down again in respectful silence, full of awe and shame that her world seemed so colorless compared to the one her beloved lived in so effortlessly.

“What do they want from us now?” Pearl asked. “We already helped them to build all of this.”

“The invitation just said: _Come and see_.”

The perfume of the great city was so sweet, so strong, it wafted up to meet them even here in the desert. Pearl knew that once they reached the streets, it would be worse: A smell so intense, and crowds so big, she would scarcely want to leave Rose’s side lest she lose her way.

For now, she breathed it in; permitted herself a long sigh, and let her form relax.

Rose’s approving smile made it feel better.

For a little while, anyway.

***

The king hadn’t forgotten them. Kings rarely seemed to forget anything.

 _Perhaps that’s why they have them_ , Pearl thought wryly.

For the last few centuries, as the walls grew taller and the gates grew wider, every man – and, indeed, in their honor, every woman – who served at arms had been given the same instructions: The same words, in the same ways, to be spoken on the day of their return.

They’d heard such pronouncements in a thousand accents, but the meaning was always the same.

There was only one word in any human language for what they were—

And that word was not Gem, but _god_.

Rose basked in that, and still, it seemed, did not quite understand what it all meant. Pearl did, and Pearl always had, and that’s why she was so anxious to leave the humans to their cities. It opened up a pit of numb despair inside her to see the stories of their renown growing.

To see, as she saw now on the walls of Babylon, those stories gathering their _own_ stories, layers upon layers of them. Murals in fresh paint glowed on the glazed bricks, renewing and reminding, while their heroes walked unknown – but never for long – beneath their protection.

_What will these stories mean once we’re all wrapped up in them and can’t escape anymore?_

As they wended their way to the palace, each one repeated in her mind, a rapid-fire patter:

There were stories of the chattering darkness, long shadows that waited deep in the heart of the city and whispered secrets: About the past, about your enemies, but worst and most of all, about yourself. They told you things that hurt and burned, things you longed to forget—

 _And when you almost had, that’s when they followed even faster_.

Rose gently turned Pearl by the shoulders; she had been looking at a mural and lost track.

Pearl hurried to follow, but everywhere she turned, the stories went on and on.

Stories of the Face-dancer who called women into the desert, the one whose eyes were like your best friend or your worst enemy or your true love all in the same instant. Stories of those who echoed its song, who lost the will to do anything but serve and never came back.

And – now Pearl remembered herself, drew closer to Rose and let her hand linger by her pearl – stories of the conquering sun that had long followed in the Crystal Gems’ wake: He whose fury could only be justice, for it knew no mercy, and the alternative was beyond contemplation.

They always made him _brother_ to the moon goddess.

Pearl thought she could almost laugh at that. Almost, if it weren’t so miserable to think about.

But, the sword! They’d gotten that part right. _With shining blue fire_ —

She silenced that thought, drew _her_ sword from her gem and returned it to the sheath at her hip.

And what of the stories they told of her? She tried not to worry about that too much.

There was so much more that could become so much worse. Her eyes were on Rose.

When they reached the broad boulevard leading to the palace, they found it lined with men in fine armor and women in soft temple robes, sanctified again and again for a moment they only believed would come. Pearl could not have faith anymore, because she _knew_.

The men blew their horns: A bellow of bronze that was just a few mighty, discordant notes.

They scattered on the wind beneath Rose’s first words.

“They’ve been waiting for us.”

 _I know_ , Pearl thought, but she only nodded. A quick glance passed between them—

Hand resting on the hilt of her sword, eyes hard, gem leading the way, Pearl stepped across the threshold. Though they feared her, the soldiers were no longer looking at her. They all sought a glimpse of Rose Quartz. Rose, Pearl knew without checking, was smiling at them.

And she, more than any other living being, knew how that _felt_.

Like lingering sunlight on your cheeks—

Or the blessed cool of a moonlit night.

 _Or whatever you wanted most_.

With the greatest splendors of man before her—

All she wanted to do was turn back and see it.

***

The words were always different, but the meaning was always the same.

 _The moon goddess and her chosen champion are to be served_.

The king was comely and quiet. He promised a feast by the first glint of dawn, so they could sit and speak of many things. Pearl did not accept the silk cushions they offered and would not leave Rose’s side; in the end, she curled up into her accustomed half-crouch at her lady’s feet.

Her sword, she left leaning within easy reach upon the wall just beside her.

The king spoke pleasantly to Rose, but would not meet Pearl’s eye even a moment—

 _And it suddenly occurred to her why humans suspected she could read their thoughts_.

Rose, in turn, promised His Majesty the others of her kind would soon arrive, and should reach the city that night. Then, all together, they would be glad to accept his hospitality. His smile only widened at this, though his posture was stiff. He asked, rather delicately—

“Five hundred guests? A thousand?”

Rose said: “Of course not, my dear.” And looked, at last, to Pearl: “How many now?”

“One hundred and eight,” Pearl answered, clear and crisp.

“There you have it. Our whole host is a hundred and eight.”

Rose’s laughter, like bells, put the king at ease again and left a tingle in Pearl’s gem that ran all the way down her form. She found herself wondering what it was like to relish human company – an idea that faded as fast as the last notes of Rose’s mirth.

His Majesty was glad to go, and Pearl more than glad to see him leave.

Another blast of fanfare announced a new spectacle, and Rose smiled down on her again.

There were musicians, as there always were, and poetry readings that seemed, even to Pearl, to go on forever. Whether bearded old men or breathless, dew-eyed virgins, each spoke in the most luminous words they could muster of Rose Quartz’s beauty and strength and power.

Never knowing, never even imagining—

That their language – _all_ of their languages – was nothing more than bastardized Gem.

 _Songs for slow minds and stumbling tongues_.

Pearl never spoke on these occasions, but she liked to think they could see it in her face: That she could say more about Rose with a soft turn of the wrist, a casual glance, than they could ever hope to guess at even if they could live as long as she had. _That_ was a funny thought.

The sun was starting to set. Finally, she felt like she couldn’t bear the noise any longer.

She waited until they exchanged the musky incense of the nobles for the sweet scents that burned in the heart of the temple. The girl they presented next was small and fearful, worrying the cuff of her robe in her fingers as she waited for the herald to finish speaking.

She barely found the strength to leave the shadow of the elder priestess.

Pearl knew by her garments – blue and silver – that she could only be one of those they called _daughter of the moon_. Or was it _bride?_ No; certainly “daughter” for this one, at least for now.

 _This is the best humanity has to offer_.

The little slip began to recite far too intimate words praising the _soft curve of Her cheek_ —

Pearl fixed a steady gaze forward, positively _boring_ into her until she could only look up.

Then, when at last Pearl caught the virgin’s eye—

She laid a familiar hand on Rose’s arm and _smirked_.

The girl’s performance collapsed at once into the sort of disgrace that lasts ten generations.

She could not find her place or even form a phrase no matter how she struggled—

And within just a few seconds, her flustered flailing took a sharp turn from _her name used as a cautionary tale_ right into _banished and damn her memory_. It finally occurred to Pearl to hate herself for what she’d done, but it was far too late.

Rose stood up.

Pearl struggled to her feet a full beat later, feeling awkward and graceless – and finding herself blinded, ever so briefly, by the unexpected tears stinging her eyes. She peered over her shoulder at Rose, but could barely see her through her own blurred vision.

She blinked hard, but only in time to witness Rose crossing the room—

To gather the girl up in a hug that only made her seem all the smaller.

When the maiden was no longer quaking, Rose guided her back a step, letting strong hands stay in place on her shoulders to keep her standing. In a voice louder than before, loud enough for all the servants and guards and priests to heed her words, she spoke.

“Thank you very much. That was the most beautiful poem we heard today.”

“I’m sorry, Most Gracious One, I was simply overcome—”

“And _that_ ,” said Rose Quartz, “is what made it so beautiful.”

More tears spilled over the girl’s cheeks, and Rose hugged her again.

When Rose’s gaze turned at last to Pearl, she couldn’t bear to meet it long enough to know if her beloved realized what had happened; the very _thought_ of Rose’s disappointment closed a vise of anxiety over her slender throat. Instead, she did what felt natural.

Snatching her sword up with one hand, she dropped to her knees, her gem pressed all the way to the marble floor in wordless apology: For her transgression, if it had been noted – merely for being _unworthy_ , if it had not been. She waited, poised—

Imagining being left right here, just like this, a silent disgrace.

Rose raised her hand, gave an airy upward flick of her fingers.

“Up.”

Pearl bounced to her feet as if she’d been pulled from above.

The girl ran back to her elder priestess, who glared at Pearl.

_Such cold blue eyes!_

But the pale Gem barely noticed. All her attention was on Rose, who led their way out into the cool darkness where white jasmine bloomed beyond the palace steps. Holding her position three long strides from Rose’s back, Pearl willed her mind to be empty of all thought.

All but one—

How she was _consumed with gratitude_ to not be left behind.

She told herself again and again: _I am, I am, I am_ —

That thought was extinguished when Rose turned to her—

With an enigmatic smile and a gaze that knew everything.

“I ...” Pearl started, her voice cut off in a little _gulp_.

Rose fetched her up in a hug, too – and held her so long that, at last, Pearl’s arms obeyed her, though sluggishly, and clasped the mighty Quartz as best they could. In the instant their cheeks touched, she could feel tears drying on her dear one’s skin.

Were they were fresh or from minutes before? She could not tell.

Pearl stretched as far as she could up onto her toes, but soon Rose was almost carrying her. She found herself blushing – half from the attention and half from the idea that the humans might observe them. _Who knows what their little pictures of us would look like then!_

Pearl started again: “I—”

Rose held her out so they could see eye-to-eye.

“I have an idea,” said Rose Quartz—

Her smile was Pearl’s whole world.

“Tell me,” Pearl said.

“No. I would rather show you.”

“Yes, my Quartz,” Pearl whispered.

Rose carried her like a bride into the garden.

As Pearl let her head loll back, there above her swirled Earth’s unfamiliar stars.

***

With her neck resting against Rose’s arm and her legs dangling, it seemed to Pearl they went a long way indeed. She could not have leapt to her feet at the first rustle of movement, could not have counted her steps so she could find her way back even blinded, as she always did.

Rose was so close to her now. None of those things seemed to matter.

Pearl’s eyes slid closed, and her breathing slowly fell into Rose Quartz’s rhythm.

Even like this, she could have sensed eyes on her – for _eyes on you_ was always the first sign of danger, especially for a pearl. She braced herself for the curious gazes of onlookers raking her form and only hoped she could keep the blush from her cheeks when the time came.

That familiar feeling, hot and wet and sickly, did not come as she worried it would—

But just under Rose’s breath – her own, now – she could hear scuffling, shifting people.

Letting her eyes open to half mast, she whispered: “Why aren’t they looking at us, Rose?”

Rose rocked her a little as she walked, and Pearl could tell she was looking straight ahead.

“ _Shh_. They know better, that’s all.”

That was all she needed to know. Pearl was sure sleep would elude her, even like this, but she was grateful to let the grating noise of consciousness go. Sensations streamed like silvery sparks slipping across her vision, alerting her to this and that – until, at last, they began to soften.

She felt herself smiling, all of a sudden. Even the sweet smells weren’t so bad, now.

Pearl gazed up at Rose in wordless thanks, a faint bluish blush dusting her cheeks.

“We’re nearly there,” Rose said, her voice the high note that Pearl knew so well.

That thought roused her, made her squirm in Rose’s grasp. That trill, so familiar she could hear it in her mind, high and sweet and soothing when it stretched her name long. That was what had changed everything, and here it was again. She sighed, but it wasn’t the sigh of a betrothed.

 _The more you fuss, the more it’s going to hurt if she drops you_ , Pearl scolded herself.

And then, a few seconds later:

 _Rose would never do that_.

The thought froze her in a tight little ball, doubting herself and doubting her doubts—

But Rose gave her all the relief she needed.

Rose stepped across the threshold into the sacred precincts and Pearl felt the aroma of the walled garden pour over her. She could not untangle the notes of that symphony no matter how she strove to. Yet, one thing tantalized her more than all the rest: _The smell of roses in bloom_.

Rose Quartz laid Pearl down gently in the grass—

_Grass? Here?_

“Open your eyes, my Pearl.”

“Mmm?”

Pearl stretched her back and felt the soft carpet – for grass it _was_ – crinkle reassuringly beneath her. It grounded her, reminding her that she was here on Earth and why she’d ever come at all. The broad leaves of a fig tree swayed above her, and beyond that—

An obsidian sky specked with cold stars, a grim reminder of how lonely the night could feel.

How dangerous it could be to dream—

On so many nights, when Rose would bid her try and sleep, she would jolt awake with an antiseptic chill clinging close, full of dreadful certainty that she had returned to Homeworld.

She dreamed that someday, they would come for her—

They would move so quick, she wouldn’t even know that it was happening.

And then, when it was too late, she would look down on Earth, so far away.

 _She’d never told Rose. Rose couldn’t know this. The guilt was just too much_.

So heavy on her that new tears leapt to her eyes as she lay upon the ground.

Rose’s shadow fell over her; her leader’s head was wreathed in a halo of pink.

“It’s beautiful,” Pearl whispered. This brought Rose down a touch closer to her.

“I know,” said Rose, conspiracy glowing in her voice now. “And there are even better gardens out in the desert. We’ll go and see them together, tomorrow. Aren’t humans just _amazing_ , Pearl? They took everything we taught them and they used it to make the desert bloom!”

“That’s ...” Pearl struggled for words, then echoed: “Amazing.”

“I know!” Rose Quartz squealed. “Come take a look at this!”

Pearl was slow to respond, _all too slow_ , her limbs heavy with an exhaustion beyond what she ever suspected Gems could feel. But Rose didn’t even look back as her chosen slowly eased up and padded over to the corner that had struck her fancy.

“This one is called _queen of the night_ ,” said Rose, beckoning Pearl closer.

Pearl clasped her hands gently behind her back, peering at the cactus in question. It was tall, sprinkled with pure white flowers that left little hint of the thorns concealed behind. They were bright, she had to admit, almost as bright as the full moon above.

“They say it only blooms at night. But that couldn’t be true, could it?”

“That would be wonderful,” Pearl said uncertainly, but Rose didn’t answer. She had bent down to see the _queen of the night_ up close and was humming quietly as if she could coax its lingering buds to open. Perhaps she could, but Pearl did not wish to find out.

It was time—

“Numberless are the world’s wonders,” Pearl breathed, “but none more wonderful than you.”

Time to try her luck.

Now Rose gathered herself and regarded Pearl with a slow blink and coy, downturned look. That was the face not of a fierce warrior, but of a young lover whose ruddy blush was like an answer to her own. An answer long and faithfully awaited.

Yet, Pearl still found herself fretting:

_Had Rose been angry? Was she still angry?_

Or had she simply forgotten it all already?

Rose helped Pearl to sit down and settled in beside her, looking up at the stars with her.

It took a while to remember the source of the quotation. From—

“Pearl,” Rose squealed, elongating it one, two, three beats. “You _do_ remember Athens.”

“You were happy there,” Pearl said with satisfaction. “They called you Demeter, didn’t they?”

“And you were Athena.” Rose thought for a moment. “And then Melpomene, for a while.”

Pearl had been surprised to see a city there. Surprised to see how the soaring acropolis and all its surrounding structures, like attendant maidens, had bloomed on the rocky hills in so short a span. Not so surprised, she had to admit, to see her own face gazing down from the statues.

“I assume if we’d gone later,” she said, “or picked another hill to make camp—”

“They wouldn’t even have settled there,” Rose gasped with glee. “How delightful!”

It wasn’t the word Pearl would have chosen—

But she forced a thin smile onto her face, anyway.

“At the very _least_ , maybe I should’ve kept my singing to myself.”

“Why would you do that? I think they found it very ... striking.”

“Maybe. I just wonder how long they would’ve wandered if they hadn’t overheard.”

“There’s no point worrying about the past,” said Rose Quartz. Though her voice was kind, it made Pearl sit up straighter until Rose put an arm around her and reeled her in close. “They would’ve found those hills either way. Sooner or later.”

 _When?_ Pearl thought ruefully. _Maybe not for thousands_ —

... but she could not complete that thought. Rose had dipped closer and was smelling her hair.

“Oh, my Pearl,” she murmured into Pearl’s soft fluff.

“Yes, Rose—?”

As Rose breathed in, everything drifted away for Pearl.

“You’re getting pungent,” Rose admitted with a laugh.

“I—”

_What?_

“You haven’t had the chance to wash up in ages,” Rose pointed out.

Pearl cringed. “I’m sorry,” she tried—

“And I know how important that is to you! So, we should do it now.”

Pearl’s confusion briefly overpowered her growing sense of scandal.

“Here? How?”

“There’s a lovely pond. There always is, in this kind of garden.”

Rose took one of Pearl’s hands in her own as they both stood.

The Quartz went on: “It represents ...”

With her other hand, she gave a vague little wave—

“... who knows, really? Humans are just so creative.”

“They certainly had a _creative_ take on my singing.”

“It wasn’t _that_ bad,” Rose chided gently, pulling Pearl further into the garden. “Almost flattering, in its way. And I’m sure they’ve learned a lot in the last few centuries. We should visit again!”

“Yes,” Pearl agreed. “We should.”

But the thought made her head swim—

“Come on, Pearl,” said Rose. “Let’s go exploring!”

_Who knew what other delights they would find?_

***

Moonlight streamed down into a silver pool at the center of the garden.

The reflection of the full moon shivered as Pearl gazed dubiously into it.

It _seemed_ clean enough. But—

“Would you join me?”

Rose laughed again, and Pearl’s breath hitched; her coughing felt _loud_.

But when she finished, the serene silence closed in just as it had before.

“Dearest, there’s only enough room for you. But I’ll be watching you.”

“If anyone comes ...”

“I’ll speak up and they’ll run away. And if they don’t, you—”

“I can hide,” Pearl reassured herself, lifting a leg to pull off one shoe.

“You’re not a secret, Pearl. We’re not secrets. We have nothing to hide.”

“We shouldn’t be giving them _ideas_ ,” Pearl said, feeling a bit defensive.

She dipped the tip of her toes into the water and it was cool, about as cool as her gem when she wiped the back of her hand across it. With a wisp of a sigh, she willed her clothes away at the same instant she dropped into the pool, making nary a wave.

Pearl fell into the depths, popped up like a cork, and forced a deep breath.

Her pearl glistened as she raised her face and stroked her hair from her eyes.

The silence was not silence, she realized. There were Earth-things all a-creep in this garden and the ones beyond. Buzzing things. _Bees_ , she reminded herself from her vague, ever-expanding mental catalog. Surely, by this planet’s own strange logic, there should be no bees in the desert.

Yet, here they were. Had the Crystal Gems brought them here, too?

“Should I sing?” Pearl asked Rose, who lounged up on the shore.

“If you wish,” said Rose Quartz.

It was a profoundly unsatisfying answer.

Pearl’s legs kicked idly in the water. She thought she could hold her place for quite some time.

She turned a gentle circle, attention coming to rest on the stone barrier that separated this garden from the others. Like many of the layers of walls cocooning the city, it was meticulously painted with bulls and lions. The beasts stood out in crimson and gold against blue bricks.

Bees darted about or crept over the murals in search of sustenance.

“I know you’re not happy here,” said Rose.

“The city isn’t bad,” Pearl mumbled.

“No, Pearl.” Rose’s voice was firm. “On Earth.”

Pearl froze on the spot.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m happy,” she answered.

“Yes, it does—”

“What matters is the war.”

“What matters is _why_ we’re fighting it.”

“I know why I’m fighting it!”

Rose sighed.

“And so do I. That’s why I’ve been thinking ...”

Pearl felt a fearful anticipation building in her.

“You would be happier if they understood who you are.”

“What do you mean?” Pearl asked, voice suddenly small.

“They see you as my _servant_.”

Pearl let her shoulders trail further into the water.

“It isn’t important what they think. They’re just _humans_.”

“Pearl!”

“I-I mean ...” She went a little deeper. “We don’t have to fuss over correcting them.”

“We’re going to be spending a lot of time here.”

 _You can say that again_ , Pearl thought—

The act turned her into a pyre of shame, but Rose took her silence for stubbornness.

“I – we – we’ve been asked to stay.”

“But we _can’t_ stay here,” Pearl pleaded. “Homeworld will burn this place to the ground.”

“It won’t be that long. Just long enough to ...”

“To?”

“... to help them,” Rose admitted meekly.

“We’ve helped them quite enough!”

Pearl’s voice echoed over the sacred gardens. She could hear small animals scattering.

Jaw clenched and eyes pinched shut, she turned back toward Rose—

“What do they need this time?” she asked evenly.

“They’re afraid – afraid their whole civilization has fallen under some kind of omen.”

“Nonsense,” said Pearl.

But her mind turned to the gaping scars in the land where Homeworld’s forces had torched entire cities with every living thing inside, leaving not one stone standing on another. More than once, those crumbling streets had been strewn with the glittering shards of Crystal Gems.

 _Those delays, at precious price, got stunned survivors as far as the hills_ —

“It’s the best they can understand, Pearl.”

“What do they propose to do about it?”

“Just a ritual. It’s called ...” Rose paused to think. “... _namburbi_ , I think. A good luck charm.”

A sudden, horrible thought occurred to Pearl.

“The invitation _His Majesty_ sent you.”

“We were both invited, Pearl.”

“I never saw it. Did he mention this?”

“You don’t care about their languages.”

“So what?”

“You couldn’t have read it,” Rose noted.

“That’s not the point. I don’t need to—”

Pearl braced herself for what she had to say.

But her mouth wouldn’t form the words: _Did you lie to me?_

Instead, she said: “You haven’t said why they need us there.”

“They want to sing songs about it. To change their future.”

“I won’t sing for _them_.”

“You don’t have to. We just have to be there. That’s all.”

“You’ll sing for them.”

“I might.”

Another sigh seethed between Pearl’s teeth.

“How long?” she asked.

“A week. Maybe two.”

“This is shattering ground, Rose. If we get caught here, there’ll be no escape.”

Rose’s eyes lowered, and Pearl thought for a heady instant there may be hope.

“No ...”

“No?” Pearl prompted gently.

“Humans need to tell stories about their lives to know how they want to be.”

“What can we do about that?”

“Help them see that they can write their own stories! Any stories they choose!”

“They don’t need our permission,” Pearl spat.

“They’ve never asked for it! Only for more stories. And we can give them that.”

Pearl felt like the water was starting to suck at her. Arguing was so exhausting.

She tried once more:

“We can’t let them believe we’re something that we’re not. Please, Rose ...”

When Rose looked up, confusion shone in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Rose ... they think we’re their gods! They think that you _made_ them.”

“But that’s ridiculous,” Rose answered.

Pearl did not need to ask herself how Rose could not have known it, only how she could explain it now that Rose was listening to her. “They’re learning to rely on you ... on _us_. It’s just like ...” Rose remained silent until Pearl summoned the strength to say more. “It’s just like home.”

“This is our home now,” Rose soothed. “And it’s where I want to stay.”

“ _Here?_ ”

“Yes! Right here, when it’s all over.”

The last of the fight went out of Pearl.

“If that’s what you want,” she whispered.

“Don’t pout, Pearl. You’ll be happier when they understand.”

“How? How could they ever understand us?”

“We’ll just have to take part in their stories.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Pearl wailed.

Rose walked up to the edge of the pool and bent down as close as she could to Pearl’s level.

The stars were in her eyes when she said: “You will. Just wait right here. I’ll be back soon.”

 _Don’t leave me_ , Pearl wanted to say.

Instead, she said: “I will.”

And there she remained, long after the water had grown uncomfortable.

Pearl pushed herself to the edge of the pool and waited, staring up at the full moon and the soft clouds that would glide across its face now and again. She thought of the things that only they knew, and imagined she could see the scars Homeworld had left up there, too.

She did not know how long she waited.

She did not realize she was falling asleep.

She did not even know she was dreaming.

And she remembered—

***

 _In Pearl’s dream, she holds a vigil by Rose’s side_.

Sleep did not come easily to her – at least, not by intention – and relief rarely followed it. Even on nights like this one, when she had been asked to sleep, she could not; she simply lay beneath Rose’s arm and focused on the rhythm of her breath, matching it so her love would not awaken.

By and by, a heaviness would fall over her, but it was not the _restful_ kind at all.

Slow nausea twisted in her gut like a knife, no matter how she’d crafted her form.

As long as there was a single photon left of her, she’d feel it—

That here was another thing Rose had told her to do and she could not do it right.

 _Asked, not told_ , she reminded herself. _Asked, not told_.

She would gaze up at the night, at the stars, for endless hours. Unmoving—

And listening.

She had watched the stars for millennia already, but her mind would not knit them into a single tapestry she could say she knew. Only patches were familiar: The stars above Athens, the stars of the Nile, and (yes, she had to admit) the stars that graced Babylon.

Wherever Rose seemed happy, those were the places she remembered.

The noises were far easier to recall. Any noise could be a threat.

There were always sounds in the night ...

The drone of organic life, always hungry for something _._

Snatches of song that seemed almost familiar.

Whispers creaking on the edge of perception—

_Asked, not told._

Sometimes, especially since the Crystal Gems crossed into the land between the two rivers—

There was music.

For a few minutes, she thought that was what she heard: Music. Distant drums, some pocket of unknown humans who would not so much as invent the _wall_ for countless centuries. It was a disjointed, thunderous noise, off in the direction of last night’s camp.

When the tremors followed, Pearl knew she had been mistaken.

 _Percussion bombs_.

When Homeworld fell behind them – for weeks and months, sometimes even years – she would hear that dreadful clamor by night: A distant, rhythmic pounding and then the rumble of shifting stone eating up everything they had vowed and struggled to protect.

If they turned back – they never did, anymore – she knew what they would find.

Concentric circles spreading from the blast zone. Buildings flattened in their own foundations. A trail of destruction following the footprints of the Crystal Gems (the footprints of Rose Quartz!) that snaked across four continents and, at this rate, would consume them all.

 _Pa-boom, pa-boom, pa-boom_ —

Those sounds, which never seemed to rouse Rose, kept Pearl grounded at night.

In the morning, they would have to move. And even so, she would still be ti—

Another sound: Strident and steely and deadly personal.

Pearl’s body went rigid, but not with fear. Her eyes ticked to the side, finding the familiar shape of her sword lying in the gloom. A soft moan of protest resounded in her ears as she eased Rose’s arm off her body and slunk a little ways closer to the weapon.

 _Thip-thip-thip-thip_.

That was no Homeworld device. Nothing built on Homeworld needed rotors or ailerons—

Pearl’s fingers flexed atop the dirt as she waited.

 _Thip-thip-thip-thip_.

The last echo of the drum-bombs had faded, but Pearl could still feel vibrations in the earth.

The moon was a faded marble eye. She wished, not for the first time, she could black her gem.

 _What a disgusting concept_ , she admonished herself. _What on Earth is wrong with you?_

As if in answer to her thoughts—

 _Thip-thip-thip-thip_.

Pearl stretched herself inch by inch, reaching out until the pressure of her fingertips on the cold steel sword-hilt gave a new measure of focus. Her purpose was clear. The mechanical whirring was close, now. When it stopped, she could imagine its source in her mind’s eye.

A robonoid, or something about as big, spiraling intently through the air.

Halting in mid-drift without a sound.

Seeking—

Rose mumbled something half-heard, and cold sweat pricked the back of Pearl’s neck.

 _Not now_ , she thought desperately, the threat so dire she didn’t even feel guilty about it.

A spheroid silhouette passed across the moon—

Pearl struck.

She arced through the air and landed on her knees five or six feet from where she began, blade catching the moonlight as it stretched out behind her. There on the ground lay the robonoid, carved neatly in twain: The tiny rotor on one side continued to whine a moment longer.

Then, all was still once more.

When she felt sure there were no others, she peered around at the wreckage.

The casing of the robonoid was all black, so black it was like a void carved out in space. The two halves lay like a split geode, debris of the internal workings scattered in a surprisingly wide arc around the spot where it had burst. There was a tiny Indo-Arabic numeral on one side.

Etched in the metal, rather than painted, so it could not be glimpsed by a target.

_107_

Pearl reached out and turned one half of the inert robot over to look at the interior.

The sight tore a strangled gasp out of her. She grabbed at the other half, so frantic to confirm her suspicion that she nearly collapsed off her knees and onto her stomach. When she saw the glint in the dirt, her hands flew to her mouth to stifle a sob.

A pearl lay nestled in the casing, neatly bisected by Pearl’s favorite blade.

Her sword dropped from her unfeeling fingers. _That pearl_ —

It was blue.

 _So familiar_.

It was not – could never be! – anyone she knew. But the thought alone was enough.

Tears of regret and self-loathing spilled down Pearl’s cheeks and ran over her nose.

_I didn’t mean to do that!_

She sniffled, willing herself to find the strength to scout around their camp.

And then, when she could deem the night safe again, to return to Rose’s side.

But nothing she told herself offered the least succor to the gaping wound in her.

Some days, there were no battles, only songs. And when the songs would all fade away—

They would find a tidy little pile of shards. A friend whose voice was silenced forever.

Now she knew why. And all she could think was: _I should have known_.

Her eyes were already sore and red when the second robonoid came.

As it jittered in the air, she caught sight of the number on its flank—

_108_

It had breezed in from behind, and her vision was so clouded with tears she never even noticed the shadow falling over her. Now, it hovered in the air some six inches from the tip of her nose. At its top stood a tiny spur of mercury, and cradled within _that_ was a triangular sound-nozzle.

Sound guns, too, were new – deployed on Earth only over the last few years.

But she knew enough to know one high-pitched blast would shatter her gem.

A particularly shameful and agonizing way to go—

The sound would hold her there; she would convulse and seize until she broke at last.

The dead crackled like glass. It reminded Pearl how fragile life could be, even for Gems.

The robonoid began to hum softly, as if clearing its throat.

_No matter how fast you are, you’re not faster than sound, are you, stupid?_

She thought about what it would be like to die a screaming death right in front of Rose.

Rose Quartz’s sleeping bulk shifted and she let out a little purr, almost like a response.

Pearl tilted one cheek slightly in Rose’s direction and let a crooked smirk cross her lips.

Then she returned her gaze to the mirror-finished lens that was the assassin robonoid’s eye. It jigged back and forth as it studied her, and she wondered idly if there was an operator behind it. Somewhere on Earth, or perhaps in space, tracking and hunting them.

She imagined that Gem working tirelessly with such care and devotion—

That Pearl could only compare her, if she existed, to her own self.

That made the little smirk grow. She knew exactly what to do, now.

She’d been kneeling with her palms on the ground and her body flexed forward, spine curved, and she knew there was no standing or even _sitting_ up before she would be dead. Whatever mind lay behind the assassin knew, too: It had not bothered to stay beyond arm’s reach.

Holding her whole weight on one palm, she winched up the other arm—

And raised her middle finger so it was centered in the robonoid’s sights.

It had been rocking gently from side to side, but now it froze in place.

Pearl let herself imagine that _whoever_ was behind it – or within it – that Gem had suffered along with her in spending more than enough time here on Earth, because the robonoid seemed to know that human gesture well enough. Its skittering did not resume.

The little red light just above its lonely cyclops-eye grew a bit brighter.

Its humming got a touch louder. She could feel the vibrations, now.

Pearl braced herself to die as—

It slowly rotated on its axis, drawing a circle in the air for her.

Slowly, she recognized the oblong outline of her own gem.

A rough bark of laughter should have come from Pearl—

But she had not taken a single breath in half an hour.

As she watched, transfixed, the robonoid bobbed backward like a bouncing ball and then slowly ascended on a diagonal trajectory. She did not rise to stand until it was a dozen feet over her head, and even then the idea of fetching her sword from the ground never entered her mind.

Then it was gone. And that was the last Pearl saw of _108_.

A manic little giggle finally burst out of her, and she wrapped her hands over her mouth.

Rose’s muzzy voice came from behind: “What happened?”

Pearl didn’t even bother to answer. She just flopped to the ground.

Maybe someone out there understood her, after all—

Her lips formed half-voiced, unthinkable words.

_Could you imagine?_

***

The flicker of light against Pearl’s eyelids roused her from an uneasy sleep.

Her world was a bronzy cauldron of shadows pressing in all around; her eyes would not focus until she tore her first gasp of breath from the jaws of fear. Her gaze swept the room and fell on a tall candle slotted into a red-gold tray, the only light here other than her own.

She could hear the subtle hiss of animal fat as the flame wavered.

She lay sprawled on a bed; she pulled the coverlet tighter—

Only realizing her body was bare when it scratched at her.

Her gaze lashed this way and that, finding a small table beside her and a pair of clay vessels; she leaned over to smell them and detected wine in one, water in the other. There was still a certain tang of damp on her skin; it occurred to her that she had slept.

 _But how_ _did I ever come to be here?_

She made to will her clothes into being, perhaps even to draw her spear, but paused as her gaze fell on the far corner of the room. There stood a rack draped with the robes of the temple women. She reached out to touch the garment, caressing the sleeve with a frown.

With a subtle shift, she outfitted herself as usual; her feet found the floor.

In the dim reflection of a nearby mirror, she looked pale and wan—

 _She glowed like a ghost_ ; the fearsome vengeance-spirit men swore she was.

Her own reflection was foreign to her. _Alien_ , she quipped with a tiny smirk.

“What a mess,” she murmured. “What have you gotten yourself into now?”

Certainly, the humans here _couldn’t_ disobey Rose. So that meant—

She padded softly to the door, but had opened it only a crack when she caught the murmur on the edge of hearing: A sound so low it was felt rather than heard, pressing into her gem with a subtle vibration. It was not pleasant, but could not be called painful. It was _perturbing_.

Human voices chanting, over and over again, in words she could not quite grasp.

She could pick out each voice, one by one, but the sum of it made no sense.

Like sunlight sparkling on the ocean, a tremor brushed the light of her form.

 _I should go downstairs_ , she thought. _Yes. I’ll just go down and demand_ —

The door flew open and there stood Rose, haloed by the gathered glow of candles in the corridor beyond; it could not quite break forth around the contours of her form, but it made her gem shimmer, painting the facets with depths even Pearl rarely glimpsed.

Her mouth open faintly, Pearl gazed up into Rose’s face.

The Quartz raised her hand and brushed her fingertips gently across Pearl’s cheek.

“Pearl,” she said softly. “I see you finally got some rest.”

“Mmm ...” Pearl’s eyes were half-lidded with wonder, her gaze drifting back to Rose’s gem before pressing herself – carefully, gently – into the crook of her arm. Rose pulled her close and the sounds from below washed over them for a long time.

Tentatively, Rose’s fingers rose to play around the edge of Pearl’s gem.

Rose had always been more eager than attentive with all the different forms of intimacy that helped give Earth its allure. Her caresses ached with the memory of being twice the size she was; the fear of harming one who, even now, would slacken in her grasp.

Pearl, who could not lead, had learned to suggest with her body—

She pivoted up on tiptoes and Rose planted the softest, most gracious kiss on her gem.

Lightning passed between them. Pearl’s exhaustion gave way to exhilaration, her sadness swept aside in the space of Rose’s upside down smile. The humming air made her skin sensitive; Pearl pressed herself nearer, a throaty purr rising from deep inside of her.

 _It almost felt like their gems were in harmony_. _She could just surrender to the glow now_.

Pearl turned slowly on one heel until she could look up into Rose’s eyes.

 _Let’s fuse_ , she wanted to say. But something she saw there took her aback.

“How long has it been?” she asked.

“Only a few hours,” said Rose. With a slight pressure from the heels of her hands on Pearl’s shoulders, she guided the pale Gem backwards, an impromptu waltz that held only a fraction of their grace. When Pearl felt the bed’s edge brush the back of her legs, she knew to sit.

Another question emerged in her mind, a flicker of doubt slithering over her.

“How did I get here?” she asked slowly. “I remember ...”

She glanced off to the side, thinking – but that only brought the dream-feelings rushing back. Deadly danger creeping close; being swept into battle against something only half-seen and even less known. She felt _watched_ , so exposed even Rose’s presence didn’t make her safe.

“You left me,” she whispered, and regretted it instantly.

Rose looked like she had been punched. _The pout was familiar, but not from Earth_.

“I was making some preparations,” she tutted.

“For their so-called _good luck_ ceremony?” Pearl was surprised how sullen she sounded, even more surprised by the pain in Rose’s eyes. Pearl drew herself straight and wrapped her arms around her body. It felt good to make Rose hesitate. For even a moment, even one time—

“No,” Rose finally said. “It was something for you. Just a little surprise.”

Pearl let her eyes tick to the side to take in the faintest trace of pink.

“Oh?”

“Well, not so little—” Rose sounded flustered. “I thought you might like, well, some recognition. Something we could do – _together_ – and then everyone could see you. I mean ...” She stumbled to a stop, then picked up again: “They could see you like I see you.”

“You should’ve just told me,” Pearl said, finally glancing over her shoulder at Rose.

“I know. I just ...”

“ _Did_ they see me?” Pearl interrupted; it took a few seconds for Rose to understand.

“When? No, no!” She waved the thought away. “I brought you here from the garden.”

“Just you?”

“Of course.” Rose bristled a touch. “Pearl, I would never leave you to any human. I know how you feel about them. You were asleep – you were at the bottom of the pool – they didn’t even know you were there. I scooped you up and carried you here and tucked you in.”

“The last time I fell asleep in a pool, someone asked me to crown a new king.”

“Well, nothing happened this time.”

“You could’ve woken me, at least. There’s no telling what dangers could be lurking.”

“I couldn’t ...” A faint smile struggled back to Rose’s face. “You looked so peaceful.”

Pearl wondered if it were true; when she looked into Rose’s eyes, doubt fled her.

“Did I ... really?” she mused; her gaze bobbed down, then up. “Did you like it?”

“I always like—” Rose began, then stopped. Pearl was giving her _that_ look, pleading for what their lives on Earth could never give. Rose relented. “Yes, Pearl. I liked it very much. And I think you’re going to like this very much, too. It’s all for you, this trip. All of it.”

“What is it?”

Rose didn’t answer at first, merely held Pearl’s tiny hand in hers and traced every groove of her palm. Rose Quartz had held the hands of many humans, men and women alike, and she knew the differences between Gems and any of them. Knew how hard it was to make a form with skin as soft as theirs could be, to reproduce the lines on a palm or the crescent moon in a fingernail.

Pearl had no fingerprints, but without even thinking about it, she let her sword-calluses grow.

“Your hand is so soft,” Rose told Pearl, and her knight blushed blue.

She couldn’t imagine what Rose was really thinking:

_It’s always soft right after you reform. If we stop here, those calluses never have to come back._

“Tell me about the surprise,” Pearl coaxed gently. “I mean, unless you want it to be a ...”

She trailed off, her cheeks heating up again, but Rose didn’t notice.

“It’s something humans like to do. I talked to the chief priestess all about it! She explained there’s this – sort of special get-together – and it’s for two people to commit their lives to one another. Their _whole_ lives, Pearl,” Rose said gleefully. “Until they _die_.”

Pearl’s eyes crossed at the thought.

“How hard can it be to commit to something for thirty-five years?” she asked.

“It’s longer than that! Most of the time. _Usually_.”

“What does this have to do with us?” Pearl went on, seeing distraction at hand.

“It’s a big, fun _party_ , Pearl,” said Rose, letting her face drift a little closer. In her excitement, both her hands closed over Pearl’s own. “Afterwards, everyone knows who’s paired up with who and there’s no confusion or hurt feelings anymore!”

“This sounds somewhat implausible,” Pearl said levelly.

“Well, they say it’s a tradition,” Rose huffed. “It means we’ll be together forever.”

 _Forever_ , thought Pearl; she didn’t even feel Rose bringing her hand up—

It was the raindrop-light kiss on her knuckle that brought her back again.

“Why is it only done in pairs?” Pearl asked. “That ...” She braced herself with a breath. Rose was waiting; patiently, it seemed. “That doesn’t sound like something you’d want.”

“But it’s something _you_ want, isn’t it?”

“I—”

 _I’m not important_ , Pearl started to say. But maybe she could be. Maybe.

“They’re going to tell stories of us no matter what we do,” Rose pressed.

“Yes, that does seem to be the case.”

“And they already think of you as mine. Don’t you deserve more than that?”

“Of course I do,” Pearl said, looking down at Rose’s hand. “But what could I be?”

“You could be ...” Rose blushed as she said it. “Well, you can be my divine consort.”

“You mean ...” Pearl brows knit as she thought. “Leave you offerings of wine and chocolate?” Her eyes sought Rose’s own. “Sing songs in praise of you?” Voice tiny, she reached up to touch Rose’s cheek. “Thank you for the sunrise? But that’s just like ... it’s just like worshipping you.”

Rose’s smile was beatific – the kind Pearl could imagine in marble or stained glass.

“It’s not worship if you’re equals, Pearl. And I know you _like_ singing those songs.”

“We could grow roses here,” Pearl mused. “It might be nice. Your desert in bloom.”

Pearl’s eyes drifted closed and a vision appeared before her as surely as if it had erupted from her gem in crystal clear light: The two of them, hand in hand before the temple and the court. The walls picked clean to be painted with a different story, one of their own choosing.

Rose had done it once before; why couldn’t Pearl? _Why couldn’t we do it together?_

She could imagine leading them all in song; a song that never had to end, all about—

Anxiety washed over her like hot tar, nearly stealing her breath.

“If we stay here, they’ll always think we’re better than they are.”

“ _You_ think we’re better than they are,” said Rose. “And I don’t hold it against you.”

“Yes, but ...” Pearl flailed a moment. “That’s different. I don’t want to _hurt_ them.”

“Well, neither do I. We just have to teach them, that’s all. We can all live together—”

“No. They’ll always be looking to us,” Pearl said; her voice was glum; the dream she didn’t even know she wanted was vanishing over the horizon. “They’ll never see us as equals. And then? Then they won’t be any fun for you, but you’ll be – you’ll just be stuck here.”

“Well, then I’ll be stuck here with you,” Rose said simply.

Pearl took in a deep breath to object. Then she paused.

“We’ve been to worse, haven’t we?” she said wryly.

“ _Yes_.”

“Will we fuse?”

“I don’t think that’s part of the _usual_ ceremony,” said Rose. “But, of course ...”

She grinned at the look in Pearl’s eye.

“We can make adjustments,” Pearl said primly. “And then they’ll all see—”

“Us,” Rose finished. “The way we really are, together.”

Pearl bit her lip. It was too good to be true, wasn’t it?

“Homeworld will attack us here. They’ll try to take anything we care about.”

“Then this is where we’ll make our stand. No more running away, Pearl.”

Rose looked confident. Almost as she had in that first victory. Almost as she had when it still seemed like things might be easy. Pearl hadn’t seen that look in a thousand years, and seeing it again was more than she could’ve hoped for in a thousand more. How could she take it away?

Pearl stood, then bounced to her knees in front of Rose.

“No vows, please,” said Rose with an airy wave. “That part’s not until later.”

“I think you’ll like these,” Pearl answered, Rose’s hand now clasped tenderly in both of hers. “If this is what you want – this place, these people – then I’ll help you. And if you want them to understand, _really_ understand, then I’ll help you with that, and we’ll show them.”

“Even if it means ...”

“Even if it means I have to see myself looking down from the walls,” Pearl said tartly. “Even if it means we have to stay here. As long as there’s a single star in the sky, as long as there’s enough light to kindle a spark in all the universe, then that—” She stopped, blushing.

“That will be the two of us,” Rose finished, setting Pearl up on her feet.

“That’s how we should do it,” Pearl said. “Exactly like that, but _louder_.”

Rose stood and made her way over to the window, looking down in it.

“I thought you might feel that way. I hoped you would, because—”

“Because ...?”

“I already sent word to the others.”

Pearl rotated slowly to look at Rose; then she bobbed to her feet. Two quick steps, almost a leap, brought her to the window as well. They were, as she suspected, up in one of the highest tiers of the temple, far above what was accorded to the king.

Drums had joined the chanting. The benighted city _thrummed_ under Pearl’s gaze.

 _Ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom_ —

And all along the road that ran through the heart of Babylon, there walked the Crystal Gems: A host of them, singing and talking, weapons uplifted in jubilant defiance. Humans stood on each side of the row and stared; some were throwing trinkets or saying blessings.

The Gems’ colors under the starlight were magnificent, Pearl had to admit—

And the sight of Garnet, with Bismuth laughing beside her, was an even greater relief.

The fusion looked up at exactly the right instant to catch Pearl’s eye.

And Pearl dropped backwards into Rose’s waiting arms, her own hands clasped with joy.

“Has there ever been a time when so many different Gems, so many cuts and facets from so many places all over the universe, all worked side by side toward a single goal?” she mused, the words slow with awe; she turned to Rose and they shared a moment of silent knowing.

“Never,” Rose assured her. “And it’s—”

 _All thanks to you_ , they both said at once.

Pearl looked down; Rose looked up; both of them were blushing, each one imagining—

“Well, what do we do now?” Pearl asked. “There must be some form of preparation.”

“We both need to get ready. _Separately_ ,” Rose instructed. “It’s a bit of a production ...” Her eyes rolled upward, teasing. “But it’s something that’s important to these humans—these _people_. There’s some, ah, _costuming_ involved, but I think we should humor them.”

“I don’t see why that’s necessary,” Pearl muttered. “But I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

Pearl turned her attention back to the window. The procession had nearly passed through the city center now and her comrades were amassing at the foot of the temple. Bismuth _knocked_ on the great door, a grin on her face; the high priestess poked her head out, then drew back in.

In their wake, armor-clad soldiers kindled watch-fires here and there. Ceremonial pyres were being erected, too. Pearl saw how stiff the troopers looked. Their orders had clearly come as a surprise. _Odd to think I somehow got more sleep than they did_.

“Maybe,” she said to the window, then turned to Rose. “Maybe it’ll be okay.”

“It’ll be more than okay,” Rose said with a smile. “It’ll be all—”

_May we enter your presence, O Graces?_

Rose turned, surprised to see a flock of young attendants standing in the hall. Peeking over her shoulder, Pearl blanched to see they were all temple acolytes: Among their number was the one she’d humiliated. Each bore a little lacquered box full of unknown treasure.

“Are you really sure—?” Pearl asked, but Rose was no longer looking at her.

“Come in,” Rose said, voice lilting sweetly. At once, the room began to fill—

Rose looked up again when she felt Pearl’s hand tighten on her wrist.

“It’ll be okay, Pearl,” she repeated. “Just let them help you. I’ll be with you again soon.”

 _Help me be what?_ Pearl whispered, but Rose was already gone.


End file.
